The Reaper (Dark Verse, #2)

by RuNyx

“You had no right!” Dante spoke, his voice higher than Morana had ever heard, his anger brimming in every word. “It wasn’t your story to tell.” “I couldn’t just stand aside and let him destroy himself or her!” Amara retorted, her voice still low and raspy but firm enough to let Morana know she meant business. “I’ve seen him do that for years and I cannot stand it.” “This isn’t about you, god damn it!” Dante yelled and Morana flinched. “You want to tell someone how you got that scar? Do it. Tell them all. But you don’t get to tell anyone how he got his, Amara! I told you all of that in strict confidence and you betrayed it. You betrayed him. How. The. Fuck. Could. You?”

“You had a panic attack,” Dante’s even voice made her swivel in her seat, surprise filling her. “I don’t get panic attacks!” she retorted, the idea completely foreign to her. Dante shrugged offhandedly. “There’s always a first time. Your mind’s been through a lot these last few days. It was only a matter of time.”

“I will tell you this—I don’t want to fix him. I want to fix me. And he’s the only thing that seems to be working.”

“His demons dance with mine,” she murmured softly, the truth of that statement seeping into her pores. “That’s all I can give you.” She found the other man regarding her with a heavy gaze. “And if your demons take you like they did this morning?” he asked quietly. Morana swallowed. “Let’s hope his find mine, then.”

Dear Morana, whatever you just told Tristan, kindly don’t again. He is just itching to go punch my father in the face and that would be very inconvenient for our plans. I don’t want to get in between whatever you two have going on but please don’t egg him on right now. I need him focused. Thank you. Dante.

“Why do you care so much about her?” her father asked point-blank. Morana felt her heart stop at the question, her hands shaking as she waited for his answer. Tristan didn’t reply for a long moment. And then he did. “That’s for me to know and her to find out,” he said in that menacing tone. "No one else."

“I need to leave,” he informed her. Morana nodded. “Don’t worry about the dishes.” He gave her a slightly blank look like dishes had been the last thing on his mind until she brought it up, and she felt her cheeks flame.

Inhaling deeply, she continued. “I just, I really like you Tristan Caine, as messed up as you are.” One of his hands settled on her hips, the other coming up to her neck. “My loyalty is not a luxury for you, Morana. It’s a gift and it’s yours. You never have to walk into a room and question that.” Morana felt her mouth quiver as she went on her toes, pressing her lips to her happy spot where his neck and shoulder met. “Thank you.”

Blue focused on her. Morana smiled. “Once I calmed down, it was pretty easy to figure out. You guys had been off for a few days. And I get why you didn’t tell me, as much as it sucked. You needed my response to be authentic.” He stared at her for a long moment, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable. “Fuck.” Morana stroked his head, running her nails over his scalp. “I know my smartness turns you on.” “It does.”

He sat back on his knees, his hands holding his head. “I never meant to kill him,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I need you to know that. I just saw you and saw what he was going to do. I only meant to stop him. I didn’t know, I didn’t—”

She pulled back, looking him right in those blue eyes and telling him the words he should have been told a long time ago. “I’m so in love with you, caveman.” She saw his eyes flare slightly, his hand coming to rest around her neck, gripping her firmly. “You can’t take that back,” he warned her fiercely.

“I mean it, Morana,” he threatened her, his eyes so alive she felt buzzed. “You cannot take it back. Do you understand me?” “I won’t,” she reassured him. He moved her ass, the position placing him so deep inside her she couldn’t stop her breath from rushing out. Hip to hip, chest to chest, heart to heart. The hand on her neck never moved. Neither did his eyes. “Tell me again,” he demanded, jerking her again. Morana looked into his gaze, seeing the lost boy and the lovable man, both of whom he kept hidden from the world, and told him. “I’m in love with you, Tristan Caine. I don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t need you to. I just need you to keep on loving me.”

“I can’t marry you,” he told her, “not until I fulfill the promise I made to my sister.” She nodded in understanding. “But I never, ever want you to not walk into a room and know that every part of me, fucked up man and the lost boy, belong to you.”